


Driven Mad With Hopeless Longing

by deirdre_aithne



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Dark, Gen, M/M, References to Suicide
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-12-06
Updated: 2012-12-06
Packaged: 2017-11-20 10:43:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,536
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/584536
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/deirdre_aithne/pseuds/deirdre_aithne
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After finding the Resurrection Stone, Lucius has found a means to re-enter wizarding society by disposing of a few... obstacles.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Driven Mad With Hopeless Longing

**Author's Note:**

> Lots of love and adoration to uniquepov for the beta work and title suggestion. Also thanks to my cheerleaders, reynardo and rivertempest. Written for the 2012 Lucius Big Bang.

_The second brother journeyed to his home, where he took the stone and turned it thrice in hand. To his delight, the girl he'd once hoped to marry before her untimely death appeared before him. Yet soon, she turned sad and cold, for she did not belong in the mortal world. Driven mad with hopeless longing, the second brother killed himself, so as to join her. And so Death took the second brother._

-'The Tale of the Three Brothers' from the film version of Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows, Part I

Potter had been the first, after Lucius found the Stone. It had been a strange victory, to watch the Minister himself crumble to his knees for the opportunity to use something that could have already been his, had he not dropped it on the Forest floor. It had been stranger still to feel a wave of satisfaction when the Stone took payment for its use, the loss of his godfather when he began to grow cold in their world driving Potter to take his life in a moment of overwhelming grief. The _Prophet_ had thoroughly enjoyed their speculation as to what had driven him to such extremes, while Lucius had sat comfortably in the Manor, entertaining thoughts of who he might next _invite_ to make use of the precious Resurrection Stone.

Severus had been the second, the downfall of his one-time friend so much more bitter-sweet. The youngest Weasley son had followed, after calling forth his fallen brother, and then Narcissa's disowned sister, still stricken with grief, who had resurrected her daughter and feral son-in-law for the sake of her young grandson. So many others had followed them, each one carefully selected in their turn, and each more desperate than the last to see the faces of loved ones lost.

It was a strange thing, Lucius had discovered, to own the Resurrection Stone. To hold its power in his hand and resist the temptation to use it even once, knowing the consequences that would follow. And strange how little stock their world put in ancient fairy stories, now, to have forgotten the caution they were meant to have when they chose to toy with Death. But it had played well into Lucius' hand, to allow their foolishness to get the better of them. It was slowly opening the door for him to rejoin society proper, without a stigma to his name, although there was still so much work left to be done, before all of his obstacles were removed.

And choosing those 'worthy' of using the Stone was becoming so much harder, now.

Lucius snatched a flute of champagne from the tray of a passing house elf and brought it to his lips, sipping it slowly while he scanned the crowd of guests in his ballroom. His eyes settled once again on a dark-haired man hovering around the perimeter of the crowded ballroom; the same man his gaze had settled on more times than he cared to count over the course of the evening, as he attempted to place a name to him. To his increasing frustration, it was a more difficult task than he'd expected, with a black and silver, serpentine mask covering the upper half of the man's face.

Unlike himself, and the majority of his guests, this man was one of the few who had taken the masquerade theme to heart, making it all but impossible for Lucius to recognize him. In passing, he had caught a glimpse of the man's eyes earlier in the evening – a strange shade of green that seemed to be laced with streaks of silver – and managed to overhear him speaking to another guest, but neither had helped him to place a name to the masked face. He was young, of that much, Lucius was certain; not more than perhaps a year above Draco, though he suspected the man might have shared a year at Hogwarts with his son.

As Lucius watched from across the ballroom, the man placed his empty champagne flute on a passing tray and stepped out through the glass doors to the balcony. Lucius waited long enough to count down from ten before he followed, the tip of his cane rapping sharply against the floor with his footsteps as he crossed the ballroom floor. He inclined his head in acknowledgement to the Ministry officials he passed along the way before he stepped out onto the balcony and pressed the doors closed behind himself. The man did not react from his place leaning against the railing, and Lucius paused to observe him before he approached.

Stepping up beside him, Lucius folded both hands over the top of his cane and looked out over the garden, appearing to ignore the man entirely. In any other circumstance, his hovering presence would have caused his companion to speak; _this_ man, however, seemed entirely content to ignore him in return, gazing out into the night at Merlin only knew what. Lucius pursed his lips and waited, drumming the fingers of one hand against the other in impatience. At last, the silence stretching on wore on him enough to make him speak, his voice tight and his eyes focussed forward still.

"Might I ask what is the inspiration for your rather _unusual_ mask?"

He glanced at the man out of the corner of his eye and noticed the corner of his mouth twitch. "The Leviathan." The man's voice sounded strange, now that he was near enough to hear him properly; as though two voices spoke at once, one much lower in tone than the other. A shudder threatened to ripple through Lucius at the sound of it, and he gripped his hands a little tighter on the head of his cane and took a slow, measured breath to suppress it. Lucius turned his head at the same time as the man, looking directly into his eyes and taking in the sharp features of the mask up close as his lips pulled back into a smile. "Are you familiar with Leviathan, Mr Malfoy?"

Something in the way the man looked at him from behind the mask made Lucius uncomfortable; it was only years of perfecting his composure that enabled him not to shift beneath the intense gaze. The tension in his voice eased in favour of a cool drawl, aiming to regain some sense of power in their odd exchange. "' _He looks down on all that are haughty; he is king over all that are proud_ ," he quoted, and the man inclined his head in a small nod.

"Strange, I never would have taken you for a fan of Muggle literature, let alone their religious texts."

"Do we know each other well enough for you to make such assumptions?" Lucius asked, arching one eyebrow at the man. "Forgive me, but I appear to be at the disadvantage here."

"That must be terribly uncomfortable for you," the man replied as he turned his face away to look out over the balcony at the Manor grounds below. "I suppose it is your own fault, isn't it? For hosting a masquerade and choosing not to take advantage of the anonymity it could have provided you. Although, I suppose you prefer to be recognized, don't you?"

Lucius bristled at the man's words. "One cannot expect to achieve any sort of social acclaim if no one knows your name. Which causes me to wonder exactly who you might be. Your apparently low opinion of being known, and the nature of your mask, does raise questions. Not anyone of importance, surely-" he began, and to his surprise, the man let out a quiet snort of laughter.

"You should be careful with making assumptions, _Lucius_." Caught by surprise by the use of his first name, Lucius eyed the man suspiciously as he leaned in closer towards him, his voice lowering to a murmur, and for a moment, the illusion of two voices speaking as one was dropped and only one voice spoke to him, clear and familiar. "Your arrogance and pride may yet get the better of you."

Without another word, he stepped back with a smirk twisting up the corners of his mouth and turned to walk back into the ballroom, leaving Lucius standing on the balcony, frozen in place in disbelief. Shaking himself after a long moment, Lucius made his way back inside and scanned the crowded room, but now, Potter was nowhere to be seen.

It was not until several hours later, when Lucius found his son, pale and cold in his bed with the Stone clutched in his hand that he understood, and temptation began creeping into his mind as he pried the Stone from Draco's fingers. It would be so very easy to give in, only once. To prove that he was stronger than any of those who had come before. It would be so very easy...

"One," Lucius whispered into the stillness of Draco's room, his gaze focussed on his son's body as he turned the Resurrection Stone over in his hand. "Two..." The second turn sent a chill creeping down along his spine, and he swallowed once, his hand hesitating before he gave the Stone one final turn.

" _Three_."


End file.
